


Across Gilrain

by daisynorbury



Series: Four Days in March, III 3019, Gondor [4]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, bathtime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisynorbury/pseuds/daisynorbury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>March 11th, Third Age 3019. Gimli recalls more of his time in Lothlorien, and he and Legolas steal away for some time alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across Gilrain

_On the third day we came to Linhir above the mouth of Gilrain. And there men of Lamedon contested the fords with fell folk of Umbar and Harad who had sailed up the river. But defenders and foes alike gave up the battle and fled when we came, crying out that the King of the Dead was upon them. Only Angbor, Lord of Lamedon, had the heart to abide us; and Aragorn bade him gather his folk and come behind, if they dared, when the Grey Host had passed._  
_"At Pelargir the Heir of Isildur will have need of you," he said._  
_Thus we crossed over Gilrain, driving the allies of Mordor in rout before us; and then we rested a while._  
_-The Return of the King, pg. 151_

It was dark when Legolas woke, but he knew that didn't necessarily mean it was still night. At any rate he was in no hurry to rise, and just lay in the straw for a time, listening to the barn and its sleeping guests. Up in the rafters he noticed a pair of round eyes glowing down at him. An owl. He smiled, ignoring for the moment that not even birds were immune to Sauron's thrall. Gimli was warm against his side, and he listened to the dwarf's slow, steady breathing. Under normal circumstances he would not have considered waking a friend from much-needed rest just to play with him, but life had not been normal for some time. But considering is not doing, and he knew their survival depended on every one of their company remaining as well as possible, so he contented himself with stroking Gimli’s arm, and watching the dark lighten to grey. It wasn’t long before the Dunedain stirred, and the sound woke the dwarf. He sneezed, and stretched, and then cuddled up to the elf for a moment before "Nature calls," and plodding out into the murky dawn.

This morning was much like the last two, though now every member of their company had to his name one more day of worried and weary, one more of sore, hungry, and aching. They found in the farm’s storehouse a few things to eke out their meager breakfast, then packed quickly and were on their way. Gimli groaned as he settled onto Arod’s back behind Legolas once again. “Glad I am indeed of your companionship on this beast, elf. This would be unbearable alone. And will you convey my apologies? I can’t imagine it’s any easier for him.” Legolas did. Arod whickered.

Nature had begun to call to the elf as well, though in rather a different tone, and he was all too willing to listen. He’d spent the greater part of the past two days in constant contact with Gimli, but most of it not in the way he would have liked. Another long day of riding yawned before them, and he was not above entertaining fantasies of how he'd rather spend his time.

* * *

**January 23rd, night.**

The next night Legolas came to the pavilion even later. Gimli had already been sleeping for some time when he was awakened by a voice in his ear. "Do you intend to sleep through the overture?"

This was yet a different tree, but Gimli recognized the blue-and-grey cushion from the first night. He shot a look at the elf's back, but said nothing. Legolas had been singing a bare three minutes when Gimli joined him at the edge. Three minutes after that the song abruptly ceased and the elf started talking.

"I want to apologize for my father's mistreatment of your family. They arrived at his feast lost and hungry and he dishonored his title, position, and all traditions of hospitality. It was rude at best, and- more fairly- cruel. If it weren't for Bilbo Baggins they might be captive still. I cannot and would not make an excuse for him." Legolas stopped and stared at the forest stretching away to the east.

Gimli pulled at his beard slowly, digesting the elf's speech for several moments. "You were there, that night?"  
"I was."  
The dwarf nodded. After another long breath he said, "I was not aware of any traditions of hospitality between elves and dwarves. Well, Moria and Eregion maybe, but that was long ago."  
"I suppose not, but there are at least notions of basic civility. The Elvenking can be completely pigheaded about dwarves. I'm ashamed to think what he would say if he could see me now."  
Gimli thought about that for a moment or two before replying. "What would he say?"  
Legolas sighed. "Probably 'Fraternizing with a naug!' or something similar. I'm sorry, I know that's offensive."  
Gimli waved it off. "I asked."

They were quiet for a time, gazing out over the treetops. The mallorns jutted up around them, taller than all the other trees. Legolas scratched his chin, wishing the dwarf would say something. Just before he'd made up his mind to resume the song Gimli spoke.

"I imagine… if I ever meet your father I might have a sharp word or two for him." He paused. "But you are not him, and have proven yourself honorable. I don't know if it's Galadriel's influence, or the forest itself, or just that I'm tired, but I'm inclined to set aside my ill-feeling. I think it would be worse than unfair to hold a grudge against you on our fathers’ behalves- it would be folly. I'd much rather call you friend."

Legolas was touched. Finally he turned his head to look at the dwarf and saw that he appeared to be serious, although it was hard to tell under that profusion of beard. He watched him for awhile, realizing that he'd never bothered before. Never taken the time to look.

"May I ask… what you think _your_ father would say if he could see you?"  
Gimli tilted his head to one side, considering. Then he looked up at the elf, amusement and indignation and a trace of sheepish apology jostling for position on his face. "Run."  
Legolas burst out laughing.

His merriment was out of proportion to the joke, but Gimli guessed that it relieved more than a little tension. The sound was contagious and he found himself joining in. When he'd calmed some Legolas said, to Gimli's amazement, "Teach me a dwarf song."  
His eyes widened. "Really?"  
"Really."  
"You mean… a lament? Something for Gandalf?"  
"Anything you like. I could use a rest. I'd like to do some listening for a change."  
The dwarf looked doubtful. "Well… we never sing unaccompanied. There's always an instrument or several or other people singing with us."  
"Then teach me and we'll sing it together."

The abrupt change in the elf's mood was remarkable. Ten minutes before he had been melancholy and distant, even sullen, and now he was all smiling friendliness. No wonder dwarves thought elves flighty. His sudden gregariousness put Gimli a little on edge, but he found it impossible to mind much. He thought a smile looked rather nice on the elf's long face. "Well. Since we're on the subject, I could teach you the one about the elder Baggins."  
"Were we on the subject?"  
"Of course."  
"There's a song about him?"  
"Two or three, actually."  
"All right then."  
The dwarf chewed his lip. "It's not appropriate to the occasion, mind you. It's comedy."  
Legolas just smiled. "Mirth with grief, or be swallowed up."  
"And by custom it's sung quite loudly."  
"I haven't been all that quiet myself."  
Gimli tugged his beard again. "The locals will hate it."  
"I'll protect you from their wrath."  
They looked at one another, the elf's expression an open challenge. Gimli took a deep breath.

_“Chip the glasses and crack the plates!_  
_Blunt the knives and bend the forks!_  
_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates—_  
_Smash the bottles and burn the corks!"_  


Legolas stared, goggle-eyed. "You cannot possibly be serious."  
"Oh, it gets better. Come on, with me this time."

They sang it together. The elf had apparently memorized it instantly. "Is there more?"  
Gimli adopted his best mock-hurt expression. "Is there more? Have you ever known a dwarf to be short?"

That set Legolas to laughing again, and Gimli thought he'd like to find other ways to provoke that reaction.  
"In truth I've never known a dwarf."  
Gimli smiled. "Then we're even."  
"Oh no. Not until you finish that song."  
"Fine. Listen up."

  


After a last chorus of "Carefully, carefully with the plates!" they sat together quietly, watching the stars wheel. Eventually Legolas started humming again, something soft. Gimli listened for a bit, and then interrupted him.

"That business about your father has been weighing on your mind."  
“I thought it best not to open old wounds before, but… I couldn't say _nothing_."  
The dwarf nodded. "I'm glad you didn't. You seem a good deal more cheerful now."  
"So do you, truth to tell." They regarded one another, wariness gone. "How's the carving going?"

Gimli pulled the woodblock out of his pocket and held it up. "Slowly." It was smaller, but despite the pile of sawdust in last night's flet he hadn't actually managed to carve anything recognizable. It was just a ball- round but lumpy, and none too smooth. Legolas took it from him and peered at it before handing it back.

"It occupies your hands?"  
"Better than tearing leaves, anyway."  
"Do you know what it will be?"  
Gimli turned it over twice, rubbing the grain with a finger. "Ulmo's trident. I'd have thought that was obvious."

Legolas chuckled again, and the dwarf counted it his first conscious success. He smiled back. The elf was swinging his legs over the edge, like a child. Gimli took another few swipes at the wood, and then pushed himself up to standing. "Well. I should leave you in peace."  
"I planned to sing some more, actually. You're welcome to stay."  
Gimli blinked. "Oh. All right, thank you."

A quarter of an hour later the dwarf stood again. They exchanged goodnights, and just as Gimli was making his way off the flet he said, "And thanks for bringing the cushion." Legolas started to deny it, but the telltale blue-and-grey caught his eye and he stopped. The dwarf grinned at him and disappeared down the ladder.

* * *

In the early afternoon the Dunedain and the Dead reached the crest of the hill above the town of Linhir at the fords of the River Gilrain. The river widened to the southwest and then flowed into the Bay of Belfalas. Below them Legolas could see the banners of Lamedon, Umbar, and Harad whipping about in a tumult of men on horseback. Here were the men whose homes and shops and streets they’d found empty two days before, bravely defending the hinterlands of Gondor. Aragorn called no halt, but led them swiftly down the hill. Halbarad drew out his horn and blew a mighty blast upon it. All heads turned at the sound, and saw not just a band of rangers rushing down the hill above town, but between and among and speeding out before them a great host of shadows- terrible spirits both bright and dark screamed towards them brandishing ghostly swords and shaking spectral spears. They waxed and waned in both size and solidity: at first a mass of smoky, armored giants tumbled down the field at them, which then shrank to a host of gibbering goblins with flames shooting from their eyes and mouths.

For Corsair and Gondorian alike, the attention due their human enemy vanished in the face of this bizarre new terror. They fled, almost to a man. One soldier only remained at the ford, frozen, horse gone, the ghosts pursuing his retreating fellows down the banks of the river. When the Dunedain reached him he stood staring at them, visibly trembling and eyes wide. Aragorn dismounted and approached the man. “We are rangers from the north come to the aid of Gondor in its war with Sauron. I am Aragorn.”

The soldier nodded, swallowed, stared, and seemed unable to speak.  
Aragorn tried again. “The spirits that travel with us are under my command, and come also to the aid of Gondor. They pursue only the enemy.”  
The soldier shook his head, bewildered, and took a deep breath. “I am Angbor, Lord of Lamedon. Haradrim sailed up from the bay early this morning.”  
Aragorn nodded. “We will pursue them to Pelargir and even unto Minas Tirith. Rally your men, if you may, and follow us once the ghostly company has passed. At Pelargir the Heir of Isildur will have need of you.”

The company crossed the fords of Gilrain, and made camp there. After Aragorn had made it clear they would not set out again until the next morning, Legolas tapped Gimli’s shoulder and mouthed “Follow me”.

Out of earshot Gimli asked, "Where are we going?"  
"Into town."  
"What? Why?"  
"For the night."  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"I told you: 'A day with a real bed at the end of it, and real time to spend with you.'"  
Gimli stopped in his tracks. "Impossible. Aragorn will be frantic if we disappear."  
Legolas stopped and turned to face him, smiling yet again. "This morning I told him not to worry if you and I went off on our own for a bit today, and that we’ll rejoin them tomorrow morning.”  
Gimli's eyes widened. "You..." He coughed. "What did he say to that?"  
"He said, 'Don’t stay up all night. The whole world’s safer with you two rested.’" Legolas bounced his eyebrows twice as his grin sprouted teeth.

* * *

Linhir was a fair-sized town, and not all the people had fled. It didn’t take long to find an inn, and its proprietor was all too glad of the business. There was no fireplace in their room, but the landlord spread supper at their small table and then left them alone. After he’d finished eating, Gimli flopped onto the bed and lay in a heap. Legolas remained seated, finishing off the cheese.

Gimli said to the ceiling, “You know, I think Aragorn’s less surprised by this than _I_ am.”  
“He probably understands your situation better than most people can. I myself hope to have a nice long chat with Arwen someday, when this is all over.” He looked around the room. “D'you suppose there's a bathtub?”  
“I didn't notice one.”  
Legolas rose from the table and rummaged in the closet. “Doesn’t look like it. I’ll ask the landlord.”  
“Mm, thanks.”

Gimli considered removing his socks and coat while the elf was out fetching the bath, but found he didn’t want to move. He lay there, thinking about their day, and all their days since Lothlorien. Since Erech. Legolas returned with a big washtub and the innkeeper with the first two pails of hot water. Gimli roused himself to help fetch the others, and when the tub was filled and the innkeeper gone again he and the elf stood before it, and he realized that not only was there the issue of who went first, but also the one about nakedness. He stuck out his fist. Legolas just looked at it.

“Come on- rock, paper, axes.”  
“What for?”  
“To see who goes first.”  
“Oh no- you go. The bath was your idea.”  
“No, fair’s fair, and you need one too.”  
“Fine.”

Legolas stuck out his own fist and they bounced them up and down three times. On the third the dwarf’s hand was still a fist but the elf had spread his flat. Gimli looked up at him and smiled. “Well aren’t we just Mr. and Mr. Predictable.”  
Legolas laughed and covered Gimli’s fist with his open hand. “I win.”  
“You think so?”  
“Who cuts paper with an axe, anyway?”  
“In with you, lad. Before it gets cold.”

Legolas shucked his clothes with no hesitation. He left them on the floor where they fell, stepped into the tub, and sank down into the steaming water. Gimli crossed the room to where their packs lay and busied himself there, his back to the elf. He was a dwarf of the world, and not young, but personal modesty was deeply ingrained in him. Dwarves- at least the ones he knew- only rarely revealed their bodies to any other than their mates once they were old enough to wash themselves. They did not bathe with others except when dictated by necessity, and that was unusual. He had been travelling with men and hobbits and elves for months, and their bathing habits- which were often communal- had ceased to surprise him, but he had not yet found a way to be comfortable in such a situation himself. He was privately glad that his rock had lost to the elf’s paper, since he did not know how he would undress were he not alone, and expected that Legolas would not understand his embarrassment. He did not want to ask him to leave, however. Far from it.

“Would you hand me the soap? I left it on the sideboard.”  
“Oh. Yes.” Gimli fetched the soap and handed it to Legolas without looking at him, then returned to the corner. He could hear the elf washing behind him as he fished out needle and thread and set to mending his pack.  
“Are you all right?”  
“Hm? Yes, fine.”  
“Will you come over here?”  
“I really should get this done before tomorrow.”  
“Doubtless. Will you leave it for later and come over here and kiss me?”  
Gimli looked over at him then, smiling ruefully. “I know this will sound strange to you, but your bath is your business.”  
The elf raised his eyebrows a notch. “Oh. Well, I’ve finished, so you’re welcome to it.”

He stood, water streaming down the planes of his body, glorious in the lamplight, and Gimli tugged his eyes away. The dwarf waited until Legolas had bent over to towel his long hair before quickly removing his clothes and lowering himself into the tub. 

It was wonderful. The elf’s bath had taken less than ten minutes and the water was still hot, and already soapy. At first Gimli could do no more than sit, letting the water calm him and soothe his aches. His eyes fell shut, and he wished he had something to rest his head against.

Legolas said, “Does that mean your bath is your business, too? Or can I help?”  
He’d been about to reply when he felt the elf pour a dipperful of warm water over his neck and shoulders, and oh my did that feel good. Gimli sighed. “No one’s done that for me since I was a child.”  
“You’re joking.” He did it again.  
“No.”  
And a third time, over the top of the dwarf’s head.  
“You don’t… ? I don’t even know what I’m asking.”  
Gimli shook his head, droplets spilling out of his hair and beard. “I’m not accustomed to being naked in front of other people.”  
“Yes, I noticed that. I’ll be asking you to make an exception for me.”

Legolas sat down on the floor beside the tub then, one arm resting on the rim. He wore only a towel at his waist, and his wet hair clung to his glistening shoulders. Gimli’s knees were drawn up and he was grateful for the privacy they afforded, but Legolas was not looking at his body. The elf’s attention was fixed on his face. “You must be glad to be away from the Dead for a while.”  
“Mm.” Gimli soaped himself. “Aren’t you cold in nothing but a towel?”  
Legolas began to deny it, but then stopped and looked like he was reconsidering.  
“Oh, right. You are strangely made, elf.”  
He chuckled. “I suppose so. I was about to say ‘no’ but then I remembered what happened when I agreed to share your blanket.” Then he reached out a hand and cupped the dwarf’s jaw. He ran a thumb over his cheek, then leaned forward and pressed their lips together. 

Gimli felt the elf’s other hand come to rest on his knee as he kissed him, and then begin to slide slowly down his thigh. When it dipped under the surface of the water Gimli took it in his own, stopping its descent, and pulled his mouth away. 

“Legolas…” The elf was still smiling at him. “I don’t know that I… I mean I didn't expect… this,” he ended lamely.

“Neither did I.” If anything, his smile just got wider.

“No, I don't mean that I didn't expect an elf. Of course I didn't expect an elf, the point is that I didn't expect it at all. If a dwarf finds-“ he waved a noncommittal hand in the air- “Which is probably less common than you realize, it's usually around the age of ninety or a hundred. I'm a hundred and thirty-eight. Not old by dwarf standards, but old enough to be a confirmed bachelor.”  
Legolas rubbed two knuckles along his furry jawline. “Your inexperience doesn't trouble me.”

Gimli lowered his eyes. “That’s not what I mean. What you’re proposing- what I think you’re proposing- does not happen so… soon. To us. It’s not just inexperience, it’s a lack of…” Legolas watched him, listening, stroking his shoulder. Gimli tried again. “Elves are notorious among us, you know. ‘Randier even than men’, we call you. Ready to bed one another at a moment’s notice. It baffles us, how you can be ready so quickly. I am more flattered by your interest than I can say, but if you tried to take me to bed tonight I’m afraid you’d be disappointed.”

Legolas shook his head slowly. “Disappointed? What is it you think I want?”  
Gimli rolled his eyes. “Who’s the one with his hand in my bath?”

The elf chuckled and nodded. “Ah. Yes of course I want to spend the night with you, but that doesn’t mean anything specific. I want a night without Aragorn driving us relentlessly and The Dead floating around going “boo” at the horses, a night without three dozen men muttering and shouting out of nightmares all around us. A quiet night in a bed, where I can hold and kiss and talk with you and forget for a while that we might be dead tomorrow. Sex would be lovely, but knowing that it won’t happen tonight won’t discourage me from taking you into that bed with me. Really I just want to fall asleep in your arms.”

Gimli squeezed his hand, which he had not released since the dwarf had thwarted his attempt to explore. “Well. That I think we can manage.”

  


When Gimli was scrubbed and the puddles on the floor sopped up with towels, the dwarf sat on the edge of the bed and the elf just behind him, gently combing the snarls out of his wet hair. The bedside lamp cast a golden glow over his warm skin. The elf sang as he worked, low and sweet, and now and again bent forward to press a kiss into the dwarf’s shoulder.

“Ow- careful.”  
“I’m sorry?”  
“My hair.”  
“Oh, sorry. It’s very different. Beautiful, but the texture’s quite outside my experience.”  
“I suppose elf hair never tangles.”  
“Occasionally.”  
Gimli snorted. “Spare me the awful details.”  
Legolas chuckled. “You can do mine later. See for yourself.”  
“Fair enough. You seem unperturbed by how peculiar this is."  
"What is?"  
Gimli shot him a look over his shoulder."What indeed. Dwarf and elf?"  
"Oh. I suppose."  
"You suppose? I can't think of another example in the whole long history of our races. A great deal of war, and very little friendship, Narvi notwithstanding."  
"You know of no others?"  
"No, of course not. Why, do you?"  
"A few. It's uncommon but not unheard of."

Gimli turned and stared, incredulous. "On the contrary that's exactly what it is. Who?"  
Legolas shrugged. "They're not really my stories to tell."  
"But… people you've actually known or just heard about?"  
"One I knew."  
Gimli continued to stare. "I don't think I believe you."  
Legolas grinned. "Very well then, we shall be unique in all history. This surprising joy is for us alone."  
"Obviously elven memory is longer than ours, but that doesn't seem the sort of thing we're likely to forget."  
"I think it's more that- well, from what I know of you, I think dwarves would be less inclined to speak of it. Than we are, I mean."  
"I would speak of it. If we survive this I'll tell every dwarf in Middle-earth."  
"Your family?"  
"And my father, and the king himself. But especially the children."  
"Gimli you embarrass even me."  
"I will tell them not to believe all the slanders they hear about elves."  
"Except the randy one. That's true enough."

Gimli barked a laugh. "That’s not slander. Poor Legolas. If I were an elf we'd already be-"  
Legolas cut him off. "I wouldn't trade this night for the world. Here, I've finished. Will you do mine now?"  
"Yours doesn't need it."  
"Please?"  
"All right." They switched positions on the bed. "I kept thinking about Boromir today. I don't know why."  
"I don't know how long it's been since he died. I've lost track of the days."  
"You liked him, didn’t you?" It was more statement than question.  
"Yes. Rash, I think, but a good man. Strong-willed."  
"Gondor's loss in grievous."  
"And it's... ‘There but for the grace of Varda’, you know? It might just as easily have been me. Mirkwood's in as much danger as Gondor."  
"No, I think you're less susceptible."  
"Why do you think that?"  
"Because of what happened with Saruman."  
"Saruman's power and that of the ring are different."  
Gimli nodded, conceding the point. "Does that mean the ring called to you?"  
"I don't know. All one's thoughts seem to be one's own, don't they? You know the orcs were once elves, don't you?"  
"Meaning?"  
"Meaning I fear capture far more than death."

Gimli set aside the comb and hugged him from behind. The elf's longer torso meant the dwarf's face fit neatly between his shoulder blades, and the words that came from between them were muffled. "I liked your idea about forgetting all that for tonight." 

Legolas held the hands encircling his middle and was reminded of all their recent days of riding, and of the fact that he could not see an end. Even if they reached Minas Tirith, even if the armies of the west defeated all the armies of Sauron, what then? The dark lord would not lie down in defeat. Frodo's success was their only real chance for peace. But all he said to Gimli was "Yes. Me too." The dwarf set to massaging his shoulders then, which was helpful indeed. Sauron and the fate of Middle-earth melted away under the dwarf's strong fingers, and Legolas let himself feel nothing but their sweet pressure.

"When Galadriel proclaimed the skill of your tongue I think she sold your hands a trifle short. Not that I'm complaining about your tongue, mind you."  
Gimli stopped his ministrations, and after a moment Legolas felt him draw his fingers through his hair once more. "What is it?"  
"Galadriel and my hands."  
"What?"  
"She said to me, 'If hope should not fail, then I say to you that your hands shall flow with gold.' And look-" he entwined a handful of Legolas's golden hair among the fingers of his left hand and then drew it forward over the elf's shoulder to show him. "They do. I call that good reason to hope."  
Legolas blinked at his hair in Gimli's fingers and frowned, turning to face him. "She didn't mean me."  
"Didn't she? I'm not so sure. I wouldn't be surprised if she'd seen this on the horizon."  
"Well. Maybe one day you'll have the chance to ask her."

  


The innkeeper had kindly lent them nightshirts, but only the dwarf wore his. It fell to the floor when he stood, which suited him fine. The elf remained in his towel, naked to the waist, but when it came time to turn in he eschewed even that, and slipped beneath the bedclothes bare as the day he entered the world, generations before the eldest men and dwarves he knew were ever born. Gimli climbed in beside him, saying, "You know, when we were outside Calembel and there was no light but the campfire, I remember thinking that firelight suits you better even than sunshine. But… this is best."

The elf's eyes twinkled and the corners of his mouth drew up, teasing. "You said that henceforward you would call nothing fair, unless it be the Lady's gift."  
Gimli snorted. "Well. I suppose I have been known to exaggerate, from time to time. Actually, it wasn't until I met her that I understood how beautiful elves can be. And now that I do… I see you, and talk with you, and I can't imagine how I didn't see it before. But the point is... what she gave me- and I don't mean The Lock, I mean her real gift- is... remarkable. When she spoke to me, I felt that for the first time, an elf had looked upon a dwarf and seen not our fault, but our tragedy. For the awakening of Durin's Bane she gave me not blame, but sympathy." He breathed. "I loved her immediately." Legolas nodded, scooting closer and wrapping an arm around him. "You're not jealous?"  
"No. I've no wish to supplant her in your heart. There's room in mine for everyone you love."  
Gimli frowned.  
"What?"  
"Not even a little jealous?"  
Legolas knit his brows for a moment, perplexed. Then a broad grin spread over his face. "Oh. Well, a little bit, yes."

Gimli laughed and punched the elf's shoulder. "And you claim not to understand dwarves. Yes, I do call you fair. In a larger sense, I think you're _part_ of her gift to me. Though I'd still call you fair even if you weren't." He leaned forward until their foreheads touched. Legolas then stretched over his shoulder to turn out the lamp on the nightstand. He pressed all the warm length of himself against Gimli and kissed him slowly.

After several long moments Gimli murmured, "Would that our road tomorrow were not so long, yet again."  
Legolas kissed his cheek. "Mm. I know I should be letting you sleep."  
Gimli cradled the elf against his chest and yawned. "And I you."  
Legolas laughed quietly in the darkness.  
“What?”

He pressed a kiss into Gimli’s breastbone and whispered, “Oh, I think I can cope."


End file.
